


There is No Hope (For Any of Us)

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Series: Survival Instincts [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Anal Sex, Captive Bonding, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Homophobic Language, Id Fic, Inadequate Lubrication, M/M, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Sexist Language, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Coercion, Stockholm Syndrome, Zombies, looting, survival sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3197903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...but is survival worth it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is No Hope (For Any of Us)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a common refrain from the Nebraska episode. (It's also just a perfect description for Nebraska in general.) Direct sequel to Survival--comes off as more plotty if you read the first fic to see how Randall gets here.

Dave's eyes jerked open to a yellow haze. His heart was beating fast. He remained motionless as he took in his surroundings. A scream still stung the back of his throat, but he held it back, just as he did every time he found a few moments of sleep. 

Sound just brought more of them. You keep quiet, or you get eaten. 

The low light gave shape to four walls, blankets over a window, a closed door. The apartment? No, too small, and the bed was too tight. A body beside him. Cheryl?

He moved, bracing himself on one arm to look down at the boy sleeping beside him. Randall's dark hair was a mess, his bare skin covered in dirt but for the bruised patches on his neck and shoulder. Dave ran his hand over the marks, tracing the long hollow lines of his thin neck, the delicate bones at his shoulder and collar, the shadows of his ribs. 

Randall didn't wake, even when Dave maneuvered him onto his back, laying him out across the mattress, and pressed his stiffening dick into his side. It'd been so long since he'd woken up next to anyone but Tony, he'd almost forgotten how good it could feel. He dipped his head, sucking at one of the marks he'd made before falling asleep, almost moaning at the warmth against his lips, his fingers.

His own come was dried across the flatness of the kid's belly, just adding to the filth covering him. Dave scratched at it, flaking some off with the dried sweat, dirt and whatever else was left after who knows how long he'd spent in that cellar. It was a miracle they'd come across this place before anyone else. So rare these days, to get a little something without having to fight for it. 

"Ya done in there yet, or am I gonna have to drag ya out?"

Dave groaned into the skin beneath his lips, muffling the sound. "Seriously, Tone? Can't you knock?"

"I'm standing outside the door, ain't I?" came the angry voice through the thin wooden door. 

"Like a perv!"

"Eat me."

Dave scoffed. Dark eyes, shadowy under heavy lashes, looked up at him from the pillow. He wasn't sure if Randall was completely awake; he had that hazy look he'd had when they first brought him out of the cellar, like he wasn't sure what was going on. His cracked lips opened and closed with his breathing, and all Dave wanted to do was shove his dick so far down his throat the boy would choke on it, but Tony was knocking. 

"C'mon princess. Your watch." 

"Five minutes."

"I gave you five minutes when you started moving around." 

"Jesus fuck." He turned away from those pretty eyes to glare at the door. "You been keeping an ear on the door or what?"

Their argument never got above a regular talking voice, never loud enough to attract the attention of any lamebrains wandering around outside. Even on the second floor, those fucks tended to be attracted to any sound. Dave could feel that he'd slept a good amount of time, more than he usually did. His mind felt clearer than it had in weeks, and his body was smooth and sated. 

"That piece of shit bed makes more noise than your mother."

"At least my mother had a job, ya douche." Dave rubbed his hand across Randall's chest one last time, dipping his head to press a sucking bite into one of the darker marks. The kid's throat vibrated under his lips with a tired moan. "Sorry," he muttered quietly just for Randall. "My watch."

Dave climbed over the kid, picking his gun off the dresser with one hand as he adjusted his hard on in his pants with the other. He couldn't begrudge Tony for wanting his break. Two men covering 24 hours was a hard gig, especially during the end of the world, but still... 

Dave opened the door with a sour expression. "You couldn't wait another five fucking minutes?"

Tony tossed an unopened box of pop tarts at his face, and Dave caught it one-handed before it fell to the floor. "You're welcome. The rest is downstairs. Zero deadheads." The man wrinkled his nose, waving his hand in front of his face. "Get yourself cleaned up."

Dave noticed that Tony was wearing new clothes, and the dried blood he had swiped across his forehead 3 days ago was now gone, along with about 10lbs of sweat. "Delicate fucking pussy," Dave teased. He went to knock the stupid hat off his head, but Tony ducked out of the way, moving around him through the open door. Tony flipped him off for good measure before kicking the door shut behind him. 

The kick was a little harder than Tony meant, and the door bounced off the jamb, not latching. It swung back inwards a bit, so Dave had a clear view back into the room. Tony didn't even bother with looking back. He set his gun down, pulled off his hat, belt, shoes, and started taking out a condom. 

Tony was the only guy Dave knew who's first thought on seeing the dead walk wasn't "We're fucked," or "Holy shit!" but "Stock up on condoms." He had explained that with the world gone to shit, he wasn't gonna have his dick fall off due to some stupid disease. "It's either gonna get bit off, or it's coming with me."

Always the optimist, at least when it's about getting laid. Dave didn't even bother with the box of pop tarts in his hands. He was hungry, but fuck that shit, he never got a chance to get off before Tony dragged him out of that warm bed. The least he could do was get a show out of it. 

Tony slapped Randall on his side, waking him out of his stupor. "C'mon, kid. I ain't gonna waste all day on you. Get up." Randall blinked in the low light of the room, squinting a bit up at the big man before he scooted off the side of the bed. His legs were unsteady as he settled his feet on the ground and stood, awkwardly trying to follow along. 

Sparing a glance down the stairs to make sure no deadheads were invading the living room--all clear--Dave set the box on the floor and popped the button at his fly. He leaned against the wall, getting comfortable as he watched. 

"On the bed. All fours. Now." Tony wasn't wasting time at all. As Randall scrambled back onto the squeaky twin, Tony was jerking his dick, his eyes closed as he talked silently to the ceiling about something. 

Dave couldn't keep his eyes off of Randall, all thin limbed and scared as he tried to obey directions. He padded around on hands and knees like a little puppy stepping on snow for the first time, never sure where to go, how to get comfortable, if he was doing it right. 

Tony snapped the condom on as soon as he was hard enough and climbed on the bed behind him. He settled Randall's confusion with a hand on his hip. "Right there." He moved the boy like a rag doll, positioning him. 

Dave had a perfect view from the doorway. Randall looked so scared. His eyes were huge in his face, dark and wide as he craned his neck back, looking for mercy in the man adjusting his prick behind him. His whole body shook with the effort, and his mouth hung open as his brain couldn't work out the words yet to beg him to stop. Dave slipped his hand under the waistband of his jeans, gripping himself tight to keep himself from coming too soon.

Randall's face crumpled completely, a tiny wail pushing its way out of his throat as he threw his head back. His spine bowed, pushing out his stomach beneath him until he looked almost pregnant with it. His shoulders bunched as what muscle remained on his bones tensed and shook. If it weren't for Tony's powerful grip, he would have fallen forward into the headboard. 

"Shut up, will ya? I'm using the ones with lube." Tony pulled back, then pushed forward, slamming into Randall's ass with a fleshy smack. Every movement dragged more noise from that long, sleek throat, whines and whistles and groans and hums and howls that grew so loud Tony pushed his head into the pillows. "Shut up! You'll bring the deadheads, dumbass." He pressed Randall into the mattress with all his considerable weight, fucking him hard into the pillows to muffle the noise, the thumping racket and wet thwack of their bodies covering the sweet little noises the boy made.

Dave nearly tripped over the box of pop tarts at his feet when he stepped away from the door. He kicked the damn things down the stairs and slid into the bathroom. He still had the delicious image of Randall--speared and sweating, his bruised throat at the edge of begging--stuck in his mind as he stripped his cock, shuddering his orgasm into the toilet. 

"Fuuuuuck." It wasn't as nice as that mouth would have been, but the reality of having Tony breaking in the boy had been far better than anything he had imagined. He didn't know what gods they had pissed off to wind up in this hell, but he'd gladly kiss the asshole of whatever devil ruled it. 

It took him a few minutes to come down off his high to be able to piss straight. The bathroom wasn't in too bad of shape. A few buckets of water had been brought up, probably what Tony had already used for his own clean up. Dave made a cursory wipe-down to cool his skin before leaving the bathroom. 

He was only half-way down the stairs when Tony came out of the bedroom, carrying his belt and shoes. The asshole didn't even bother to zip up. He staggered across the hall into the master bedroom, and a minute later Dave could hear him snoring. Tony had never snored on the road. 

At the bottom of the stairs, Dave settled himself in the shadows. The sun was just over the horizon, starting the day. There wasn't any movement outside just yet, but that could change. He made sure he was well out of sight, but could still see out to the road. 

The haul of goods Tony had scrounged were scatter-organized across the floor. He must have hit the neighbors during the night--stupid bastard. It could have gotten him killed. There were small piles of clothes, pill bottles, ammo, porn mags, food, fuel. Dave hooked the slightly-dented box of pop tarts with his foot to kick them close enough to pick them up. They were expired, and some sort of hideous blue color, but there were worse things to eat. 

*****

It was dark. He was in the cellar, but the scratching was gone. He missed the scratching. It made him feel less alone. There wasn't even a roach, or a spider. Not a drop of water. Not a worm to eat. 

Randall moved his hand. It didn't hurt to move his hand. It hurt elsewhere, but not there, not his hand, not his fingers. He moved them, and they touched the wall and he could scratch, and it was like he wasn't alone. He was there. It was dark, and he was there, in the cellar. And he wasn't alone. 

"Randall." 

Just the scratching. Never a voice. Just scratching.

"Randall."

Something was touching his leg, lightly. Maybe if he stayed real still, it'd crawl up to his mouth, and he could eat. Suck out its juices, live a little longer. And then he'd be alone again. Little friend, come a little closer...

"Kid, wake up!" 

Something bit his ankle. He jerked to stop it, but the movement pulled at his lower back. A wounded noise escaped him, squeezed between his teeth as he bit into the pillow.

"Hey, it's okay. You're fine." 

He didn't feel fine. He turned his face to the side, settling his cheek on the wet spot he'd bitten onto the pillow so he could see his tormentor. Dave smiled down at him. "There you are. You thinking of getting up sometime?" 

Randall didn't know if he could move. Little parts of him could, but the idea of his whole body getting up and going some place other than the spot it was currently occupying just didn't make sense. He did his best to shake his head and look pathetic. 

"C'mon lazybones. Let's get you cleaned up." Dave slid his hands under Randall's chest. 

He wound up on his feet more by force than by his own power, his weight suspended on Dave's arms. He shuffled his legs forward, the movement striking pain up and down his back. Even his shoulders and hips got in on the medley of misery as they slowly worked their way down the short hallway. It had never seemed like such a long distance before. Dave coaxed him forward with pretty words, using his strength to hold him up until they finally passed the threshold of the bathroom door. 

A few pails of what had to be water shimmered before him in the darkness. Randall could almost feel the sweetness of the liquid over his skin, spilling into his throat. He longed to drown himself in one of those pails, to finally drink his fill and end this terrible dry thirst. He lurched clumsily towards the nearest bucket, his toes tripping him up. 

"Whoa! Easy there." Dave caught him before he fell, those strong arms looping around his belly and chest. Randall choked off a cry at the handling, yearning for the water that was just about in his grasp. He whined, as softly as he could. No loud noise, he'd been warned. Noise only brought more of Them. 

"C'mon, this way. Hold on." Dave propped him up against the sink, bracing his hands on either side of the bowl with his face towards the mirror. The handle of the old faucet was twisted, stuck in the on position, even though not a single drip of water escaped from the spout. Randall let his head hang low between his shoulders as he stared down into the dark dry hole of the sink. He didn't want to know what he looked like right now. 

"Sorry," Dave apologized. "You'd probably hurt yourself if we tried this in the tub." He laid out a few towels around Randall's bare feet.

It was dark in the room, and quiet, as Dave left him alone. 

As long as he didn't move, it didn't hurt anymore. He closed his eyes, breathing in and listening to the movements of the house. The wind sighed against the walls, wet and cool with the darkness of night. A cricket chirped sadly down the hallway, filling the shifting air with music before cutting off suddenly. In the silence, the old wood floors creaked with movement. 

Fear coiled deep in Randall's stomach, pulling at something inside. He gasped in pain, opening his eyes as yellow-soft light bloomed around him. He swallowed down the scream that scrabbled at his lungs. Dave slid through the doorway with a rustle of cloth, the rose-decorated lamp in his hand already lit with the wick high. He set it on the floor as he closed the door, smiling sheepishly as he shrugged out of his shirt. The lamp's light stabbed at Randall's eyes, and he blinked painfully as he turned back to the dry dark well of the sink. 

"So!" Dave rubbed his hands together, the noise of skin rubbing against skin making Randall's stomach clench again. "Let's get you cleaned up, huh?"

Cold drops of water against the back of his neck were the only warning he got before the wet rag wrapped around his spine. The chill was startling, and Randall whined as he straightened in surprise. Sharp pain twisted low on his hips, and he had to bite his lip hard to keep quiet. His breath hissed out between his teeth.

"It's cold, I know," Dave said quietly. "No way to set up a good fire without the deadheads seeing it." Dave's other hand gripped his side, holding him down as he moved the wet rag around his neck. Chill drops chased down Randall's skin like icy fingers, the dark water dripping into the sink. He twisted his head to lick at what he could reach on his shoulder. 

"At least we've got plenty of water, here, even if it does stink. On the road, we could barely find enough to drink, let alone wash up." Dave scrubbed at Randall's shoulders, dipping down to swipe at his upper chest with the rough cloth. He laughed, low and quiet. "Hell, with all those things in the lakes and rivers, you'd've been dead before you hit the water. You should see the ocean. Every wave is full of bodies. They just tumble, endlessly. Gotta stay away from the coasts."

Randall could see it, in the dark swirl of dirty water tumbling down the pit of the drain. Rotting, swollen limbs breaking the surface. Claw-like bones reaching through the foam. Torn bodies rolling onto the sand, scraggly hair spread out like weeds. And then they start moaning... Moving. 

/Scratching./

"I knew there was a person under there somewhere." Dave's voice was upbeat as he soaked the rag, splashing more ice across his skin as he worked down Randall's back. He was shivering in the night air, his breath coming in shuddering gasps. 

"You cold?" Dave whispered against his ear with a scrape of stubble. Randall shuddered. The rag made a loud wet splash, then he was wrapped in fluffy warmth. Dave buffed the towel against his shoulders and neck, his dry lips following to nuzzle the chilled flesh. His tongue dipped out, scraping against an aching patch of skin. "Mmm, you taste good."

Randall felt light-headed. His fingers dug into the porcelain, a dull ache spreading up his arms as he held himself steady. Stars burst behind his eyes. When cold water splashed against his lower back, he sucked in a breath, his lungs aching. 

"You gotta keep breathing, kid," Dave laughed. "I won't hurt you." 

Randall breathed in and out a few more times, trying to move his lungs around the clutching pain. His skin tingled and pulled, soaking up the water and warmth and touch and cold and just sensation all over everything, everywhere. He couldn't hold back the noises anymore, and pathetic whines and groans escaped past his lips as every muscle alternately tensed and relaxed. 

Dave was careful around his bruises, and didn't make him stand there wet for longer than he had to. As soon as an area was clean, he was there toweling him dry, warming his skin. When he got to Randall's waist, he pressed his bare chest completely against his back. The pressure was warm and soft, and he couldn't help leaning into it just a bit. Dave's strong arms wrapped around his stomach, holding him tight for a moment, letting the delicious heat drive away some cold. Randall shivered in place as the soaked rag pressed into his stomach, scrubbing at the mess across his belly. 

"Been a while since any of us had a hot shower." The cloth moved up around his chest, rubbing at his nipples before swiping across the arch of his arms. "It's the little things, you know, that you start to miss. A roof over your head. Solid walls keeping the lamebrains out. Food. Safety. Warmth." A towel sucked away the damp, just leaving him cold. Sharp, rough fingers pressed into the hand-sized bruise near his hip, sliding around to cover his stomach. "I'll keep you warm." 

The heat on his back disappeared, replaced with the cold cloth rubbing against his ass. When it got too close to the center, Randall hissed in a breath, pulling away as much as he could. 

"He left you a bit of a mess, huh?" Dave's voice was soft, soothing. He rubbed the cloth against the outside of Randall's thigh, continuing down a safer avenue. After a moment, Randall nodded in agreement. Dave continued, cleaning one thigh before starting on the next. 

"You know, guys like that, they got no respect. You gotta take care of your toys." He rinsed out the washcloth, coming back to wrap the rag around Randall's penis. The cool touch was a shock, and he jumped. 

"Shh, it's okay. Just getting you clean." Dave stroked his hand over the loose skin, base to tip, a few times, before moving to fondle his balls. Just enough to get him clean, like he said. When the rag once again moved back to where he was most sore, Randall edged away from Dave's touch. 

"Hey, it's okay. Gotta make sure you're okay." He rinsed out the cloth. Randall could feel his breath against his wet skin, drawing goose pimples. He tried to control his own breathing, to match that which grazed his flesh. 

"I'll take care of you." Dave's fingers dug into his skin, but it wasn't like with Tony. It wasn't to hurt him, it was just to check to see if he was okay. Hands pulled him open, splitting him apart once again. Randall bit hard into his sore lip, this time tasting blood. The salty liquid filled his mouth, wetting his throat in preparation for a scream. 

He had to keep quiet, not to call any more of those Things. His asshole burned. He had to be quiet.

The cool cloth brushed over the sensitive skin, sparking new pain across his nerves. It worked at his hole, wet and rough, and he could hardly stand it. "No, no, nononono--"

"Shh." Hot breath across his burning hole, then cold rough cloth again. "You're okay. You're not hurt. You're just fine."

Tears stung his eyes. Every drop was like sand over his lashes, and he shuddered in a sob-like breath. Dave's fingers were clenched on his skin, holding him still, holding him open and burning.

Oh, god, he was fucking it up, getting too loud. He had to keep quiet. He didn't want to be left alone, but it hurt, it hurt so bad. 

******

Dave could hardly stand it. Those delicious, tiny noises, filling the small space around them. He was hard, so fucking hard his dick was going to split his jeans open. Once he scrubbed away the mess, he could see that Tony's rough treatment had left the boy sore but undamaged, just a swollen pucker in among friction-irritated skin. There was only a little blood; nothing worse than a really hard shit. The kid was fine.

"You're lucky we were the ones who found you. You should see some of the monsters out there. And I'm not talking about the dead ones. Some of 'em don't even bother killing them once they're done, no matter how much they beg. You... You'd be ripped to shreds in a heartbeat."

Dave dropped the wash cloth to the floor, using that cold hand to squeeze himself through his jeans just to hold off coming in his pants. Every move the kid made, every little bitten-off moan and whine made his well-fucked ass twitch and clench like he wanted it. 

Licking his lips, Dave leaned forward. He could feel the heat coming off Randall's backside. Just a taste, for now. A little taste. He pulled him open wide with both hands so he wouldn't scrape him raw with his beard, then bent in for a long, flat-tongue lick. Randall squealed high in his throat, and his hole clenched against Dave's tongue. He tasted salty and sweet, like an open wound. He gave another lick, then breathed lightly over the skin, cooling it off.

"You're okay, Randall," Dave said, his voice breathy with his own arousal. "You're okay. We won't hurt you. Not like those other guys. You're safe." 

Carefully, he pulled at Randall's hips, encouraging him to stand upright and turn around. Dave stayed seated on the tub, so he was eye-level with Randall's dick when he faced him, and was forced to look up to see him. He was a bit disappointed that Randall didn't have an erection, but it wasn't a problem. He conjured his most charming smile, the one he had used to get Randall to trust him in the first place. "You're okay. He didn't hurt you too bad. And I promise, I'll make it better." 

He kept his hands on Randall's thighs, his thumbs lightly caressing the hair there. He didn't break eye contact, but he could see moment out of the corner of his eye. Randall's arms moved, swinging just a bit with abortive movements. 

Finally, his hands landed on Dave's shoulders.

He took it as consent.

****

Randall had never had a mouth on his dick before when he was completely limp. It's a weird feeling, like playing with one of those wriggly water worms in the store--those things for kids that always felt vaguely dirty but you were compelled to squish and jerk and fondle anyway. Dave's mouth moved like that, chasing his dick around until he sucked the entirety of it in his mouth like a noodle, working it against the rough roof of his mouth. 

The sensation of swelling in such a mobile, rigid, hot hole was a mishmash of pleasure and confusion. He didn't know what was happening. He couldn't even tell when he had gotten completely hard, just that things were happening to his dick, and he wasn't entirely sure that he liked it or that he was going to get it back in one piece. 

A monstrous face superimposed itself over Dave's. Dead, cloudy eyes looked up at him from a rotten skull as broken teeth grazed his flesh. 

/Fuck, I'm gonna die. Mom's dead and this is all a dream and I'm gonna die in the worst way imaginable./

And then it was just Dave, warm human Dave doing strange and incredible things with his tongue. 

Randall dug his fingers into Dave's shoulders and held on tight. When fingers pulled at his ass, he tried thrusting forward, but it just made his back hurt, the short movement not enough to get his dick deeper. Randall settled for tangling his fingers in Dave's hair and tugging his face down towards his crotch. 

His orgasm was a surprise as much as everything else. It burned through him like a knife in his stomach, tearing a weak, strangled, gasping scream from his aching throat.

*******

Dave spat into the bucket he'd been using to rinse the wash cloth, then smiled up at him. "You're supposed to warn a guy," he teased, wiping at the corner of his mouth. The kid swayed, his eyes hardly open at all. "But I'll let that pass for now, since it was such a small load." 

Dave finished wiping away the grime on his legs, giving the kid time to recover. He even scrubbed between those wiggling toes. When he shook off Randall's hands to stand, the kid nearly fell into his chest. "Woah!"

Dave wrapped an arm around his back, holding him close and upright as well as he could. The kid was insubstantial in his arms, floating like a puff of smoke in the wind. "I gotcha. We're almost done." He dipped the corner of the cleanest towel into the murky pail of water, then started scrubbing at Randall's forehead and cheeks. Once he could see more skin than grime, he dropped the towel. 

"There we are. You almost look human."

Dark, dark eyes opened, like pits in a snowfield. The lantern light barely reached his face, just highlights at his cheeks and sparkles in his eyes. That sinful little mouth was swollen, chapped lips bitten and split. Fuck, that mouth...

Dave smiled. Fuck that mouth indeed. "Let's get back to the room. I've got your breakfast all ready."

He's not walking much better, his legs kind of shuffling as Dave led him back into the small room. The kid grunted gratefully when he could collapse back into the bed, curled up around his stomach. Dave set the lamp back on the dresser, nudging his gun out of the way. Randall flinched at the noise, but he settled again, quiet and limp, his eyes clenched shut. 

"You thirsty?" Dave asked, but Randall didn't make a noise. He knocked aside the extra clothes he'd dumped on top of his go-bag, and dug out one of the grape sodas from a side pocket. 

Crack-hiss! The noise of it opening was extra loud in the silence. The kid's ears truly fucking twitched like a cat hearing the can opener. Dave sucked some of the sweetness off the rim, swishing it in his mouth to wash away the chemical-stale taste of the kid's jizz from his tongue. Dehydration was a bitch, and the boy hadn't recovered enough yet to produce much more than a thick squirt. There were a few bottles of fruity water downstairs that Tony had dug up from somewhere, but he had some plans for the purple shit. The extra sugar would do him good.

"Yeah, I bet you're thirsty." 

Dave sat on the edge of the bed near the kid's head, reaching out for his neck. His thumb found one of his hickies, so he dug in his fingernail, pulling a sub-vocal noise out of Randall's dry throat. Those dark eyes opened again, sparkling like the summer night sky that he'd never seen before everything went to hell. 

"If you want any of this," he shook the can, making the liquid slosh and foam over his fingers, "you gotta stay awake. Nobody likes a sloppy host." He let go of Randall, holding the can high and away. The dark eyes followed it as Dave set it down just out of the kid's reach. His fingers were sticky with the sugary brew as he brought them to Randall's mouth. His pinkish tongue flickered out to catch the drops, and Dave followed it inside with two soaked fingers, rubbing the liquid into the parched flesh. Randall sucked at his skin just as sweetly as before, swallowing around him. 

"Good boy," Dave growled. "Clean 'em up." He'd quickly unbuckled his pants one-handed, his eyes glued to the lips wrapped tight around his fingers. He'd been thinking of that mouth all day, what he wanted to do with it, until he was tempted to give up the fruitless watch in the middle of nowhere and take the kid. He'd been good, keeping his post, all day until Tony relieved him. He deserved every second of this. 

Dave pulled the cleaned fingers out of Randall's mouth, shoving in the other two, working them against his lips, pulling them open and exploring his mouth. "You want some more?" Randall groaned softly, his eyes dipping as he fluttered his tongue and swallowed hard. Dave wanted to bite his throat again, lick at the bobbing knot. Instead, he pulled out his fingers, wiping the spit all around those dry lips. He leaned over, dipping his fingers through the bubbled mess that still flooded the ring of the can, coating his fingertips again and pushing all four into Randall's mouth.

His lips had to stretch wide to hold them, the small cracks breaking open again to make his mouth red and shining. Dave pushed deep, pressing at the back of his tongue until the kid jerked, his shoulders hunching and his teeth biting down.

Dave hissed, pulling his fingers out and cuffing Randall hard against his cheek. "Watch your teeth." The kid shuddered, swallowing against his gag reflex. "You better not do that again, or I might have to really hurt you." 

Randall frowned, shaking his head. "No, please."

Dave cupped his reddened cheek, pulling the kid so he was half onto his lap. He reached over, wetting his fingers again. Randall's mouth opened wide automatically. Dave teased his hand over Randall's mouth, just keeping it out of his reach before setting his fingers against his tongue. This time, when he gagged, he didn't bite, just swallowed wetly around him. 

"Good boy. You ready for a little more?"

Randall nodded, his jaw dropping wide. 

Dave slid his clean hand into his fly, forcing the zipper down with the pressure of his wrist. He slowly pulled his hardened dick out of his pants, unfurling it before Randall's wide eyes. The kid pulled his head back, trying to buck away. 

Dave slipped his hand around Randall's neck, keeping him from getting too far. "I thought you was thirsty." He leaned over and wet his fingers again, but this time he rubbed them over his cock. Dave's dick twitched, the slightly sticky friction making his skin feel even hotter. 

Randall looked up into Dave's eyes, his gaze lost and empty. 

"Go on."

Randall dipped his head, his rough, wet tongue slipping out over his lips, tentatively licking against the sticky wetness. Dave groaned, the noise pulled up from his fucking balls as Randall swallowed loudly, his throat clicking dryly. "That's it," he muttered when Randall licked again, his tongue flat as he tried to get as much of the evaporating liquid as he could. 

Dave swept up the can, letting go of Randall to cup his other hand under his cock as he let just a little of the soda slide out. It bubbled and hissed against his skin like a thousand tiny tongues, then Randall's mouth was there, hot and sharp as he sucked quickly at the liquid. The kid nosed against Dave's cock as his tongue sought out all the drops, going so far as to lave over his fingers to get the last bits. 

Dave used the sticky spit to coat his fevered flesh, shivering at the pleasure. He poured just a little more out, watching as Randall just as quickly licked and sucked and swallowed to get every last trace. 

"That's so good, baby. You want some more?"

Randall nodded, his rough lips brushing deliciously against his crown. 

"Open wide, now. And no teeth." He pushed his cock past the tight, abused ring of Randall's lips, not stopping until the kid was convulsing around him, his shoulders hunching as he tried to pull away. Dave didn't let him get very far, tangling his sticky hands into the filthy locks of hair at the base of his neck. He pushed forward again, watching the clenching of the kid's throat as he choked and gasped and fought against the intrusion. Then he dropped his hand enough to just circle his neck, feeling all the little noises that his dick was suffocating.

Dave didn't dare close his eyes, no matter how good that hungry little mouth felt, not until he was filling Randall's mouth with come.

*****

"Fuck. Knew you'd be good at this," Dave gasped, the words loud in the small room. 

Filth and bile and stickiness filled Randall's mouth as he sat up, pushing away from Dave's lap. He turned his head to spit, but that strong hand was back, pinching his jaw, forcing his mouth closed. "You'll want to swallow that," Dave said, his voice still raspy with his heavy breathing. "It'll do you good."

The nasty taste was burning against his tongue, and he felt himself gag again as he tried to swallow. Drool escaped his lips with a small moan, but Dave just gathered the foulness on his fingers and shoved them inside, forcing Randall to swallow all of it. 

Then Dave was petting his face with his filthy hand, wiping away the stinging tears. "Good boy." He swung the can to his mouth, taking a deep, long pull before he swallowed. Then he filled his mouth again, ducking down to seal his mouth against Randall's. 

He couldn't help it. He needed it so bad that he opened willingly, swallowing the fizzing soda, licking at the traces that clung to Dave's teeth and tongue. It washed the terrible taste away and replaced it with a warmth that spread across his chest, eased the gnawing thirst just a little. 

Dave pulled back, smiling with half-lidded eyes. "Goddamn, your mouth," he whispered. Dave lifted the can, filling his mouth again. When he didn't immediately swallow, Randall didn't hesitate to press his lips against his mouth. Dave stubbornly refused to open at first, so Randall started licking desperately at the tight seam of his lips, whining at the little taste of soda he could claim from his mouth. 

He nearly choked when Dave finally opened completely, spilling the mouth-warm sweetness over his tongue. He swallowed quickly, sucking at the man's tongue to get the last of it.

"Such a good boy," Dave panted against his mouth. 

Randall didn't let himself think. He moved forward, leaning into Dave's chest as he met his lips again. He was little off the mark, licking at Dave's teeth, sucking at his lips. It was sloppy and harsh, until Dave tilted his head and took control, softening the movement until they were truly kissing. 

It felt different, not /good/, exactly, but not terrible and choking. It made Dave soft, and careful, as he touched Randall's skin. A warm, rough, sticky hand spread across his ribs, holding him close as Dave shifted them on the bed. He pulled Randall on top of him as he leaned back against the headboard. Things shifted inside, and Randall had to pull back, gasping on a pained breath, his spine stiffening as little sparks of agony reasserted themselves into his awareness. 

"Shh," Dave whispered, his sticky hand slipping back to rub against the base of his spine. "Relax. Nothing more right now. I promise." He pressed a quick kiss to Randall's lips. "C'mon," he cajoled, pulling Randall back down against his chest. "Relax." 

Randall didn't have the strength to struggle. He went limp as Dave tucked his head under his chin, closing his eyes as warmth circled his bare skin. Soft touches moved here and there, caressing and coaxing him into a dull, numb trance. 

Fingers tapped against his cheek. "Hey, don't fall asleep on me yet. We still got breakfast."

Dave moved around, his skin stretching under Randall's cheek. Then the bright, crisp scent of cheap, fake grape flavoring filled his nose. Randall opened his eyes to see the opened can just in front of his nose. 

"Yeah, thought that'd get your attention." It bobbed around in the air, hissing and popping attractively. "Go on. You can have it." 

Randall carefully raised a hand, waiting for Dave to jerk it out of his reach any minute. Their fingers brushed as Randall tentatively took hold of the metal can. It was fairly light in his fingers when Dave let go. It couldn't have been half full, but he cradled it to his chin, tipping the can until the bright liquid burned over his tongue and down his throat. He didn't stop until it was empty. 

It soothed the dry ache just a little bit. His stomach roiled with the added liquid, a burp escaping his lips before he could think to stop it. 

Dave laughed. His hand trailed down to rub against his stomach. "I got some pop tarts, too. Somewhere." The soothing hand left his stomach, reaching over the side of the bed to fish around. Dave leaned up, squishing Randall to his chest as he finally heaved the heavy bag over to the side of the bed. Dave slid a battered box into the space between his side and the mattress, wedging it in to pull out a broken shard of breakfast pastry with one hand. 

The neon blue frosting never looked so good. Randall waited, unsure of what Dave would do, but he just brought the crust to his mouth, holding it still until he nipped a corner. He chewed carefully, savoring the taste. He hadn't eaten anything since the Doritos, and his lips and mouth ached from all the abuse. 

"Go on." Dave tapped the shard against his sore lips. "You can have the whole box." 

Dave fed him, bit by bit. He cracked open another can, and then another, to give him some more to drink as the sticky bits clung to his teeth and made his mouth dry. When fingers were presented to him, he licked them off carefully, savoring the last bits of food and moisture that he could find. For the first time in a very long time, Randall felt full and satisfied.

He could barely keep his eyes open, though his skin felt like it was going to vibrate off his skeleton. His heart beat quickly, and everything hurt, but when he closed his eyes and settled onto Dave's chest, the man let him rest. 

******

Dave slept deeply for a few hours. He came awake slowly, his eyes blinking against a faded yellow light. The lamp was still lit, burning low and giving a hazy glow to the entire room. He stretched a little, feeling the heavy weight of the kid move and re-settle against him. He was still slightly propped up against the headboard, a little stiff but well-rested. He move the edge of the curtain aside a scooch to see the blank, empty darkness of another night without any streetlights. 

It was early, then. He didn't need to know the exact time--it didn't matter anymore. 

He nudged at the dark head nestled against his chest. "Hey, Randall." The kid moaned, burying his face. Dave ran his hand down Randall's sleek flank, finding a bit of skin to pinch between his fingers. The kid yipped like a scared dog, his head jerking up and almost hitting Dave's chin. 

"C'mon, get off. I gotta piss." 

Randall moaned softly as Dave shifted him around to scoot out from under his thin body. Before he could leave the bed, the kid wrapped one long-fingered hand around his wrist, gripping surprisingly hard.

"What... what about me?"

Dave started to shake him off with a snarky reply, but the furtive movements of the kid's dark eyes brought his attention to his crotch. With his other hand, the kid was gripping his cock hard, pinching tight just below the crown. 

Dave laughed. "You gotta piss too?" He gestured to the door with his free hand. "Go on. I'm not your mommy--you don't need my permission."

"I don't know if I can move," Randall said, his voice rough and quiet and just barely intelligible through the thickness of shame.

"Useless," Dave muttered. He twisted himself off the bed, then slid his hands into Randall's armpits. It wasn't much effort to get him standing, though the kid crouched over his dick like it took all his concentration not to piss all over the floor. "Fucking useless." He huffed a breath, but was more amused than annoyed as he helped Randall shuffle across the floor, aiming him towards the bathroom. 

It was an easier walk than earlier in the night, probably because there was a very good reason for him to push through the pain. The kid's skin was damp, and he shook worse than an old man. Dave molded himself to Randall's back as he positioned him over the toilet. He wrapped his hand around Randall's fingers, giving an extra squeeze as he aimed. The kid gave one of those tiny whimpers, his body vibrating as Dave held him, making him wait. 

"Go on. Relax," Dave muttered, releasing his grip. A sharp spurt escaped, and Randall gave a small cry before biting his lip hard between his teeth. "No need to be pee-shy, kid. Ain't nothing I haven't seen before." With his free hand, he pressed low on Randall's stomach, just enough to make the kid squirm against his chest. Another thick spurt escaped, and then in a rush his bladder released into the murky water. 

When the noise stopped, Dave pressed a little more into his stomach, pulling a couple more drops as he squeezed the limp cock with his fingers. "Good boy." He hooked an arm around Randall's hips, pulling him to the side so he could aim around him. He groaned as he released. "Heh, bullseye." He shook himself to get the last drip off the skin, then tucked himself away again. 

"Pissing after a long night is almost as good as your mouth." He eased Randall back out of the room, catching a flash of white from the corner of his eye. Dave twisted, pulling Randall behind him even as he prepared for a fight. It was only because he had his hands full and his gun in the other room that Tony didn't become a giant splash of blood on the wall. "Fuck, Tone, how can a fat fuck like you make so little noise?" 

Tony shifted the gun on his shoulder, just a black shadow against the grey-white of his shirt. "You ready for your watch? I could use a break." 

Randall whined, high and soft, as he held onto Dave's arm. "In a minute."

"Dave--"

"I said in a minute. It's not even dawn yet. Let me get him settled, then you can have all the break you want."

Tony didn't look happy, but he backed off, turning down the stairs to the shadowy nook they'd been using for watch. "Just don't make me wait too long." 

"Yeah, yeah." 

Randall was shaking more as Dave ushered him back into the bedroom. When he tried to dump the kid back onto the bed, he just held on. 

"C'mon, kid. Leggo."

"No. Please." A skinny hand snaked over his crotch, more clumsy than enticing. Dave grabbed his hand, pulling it away, but Randall pressed his face into Dave's, kissing messily across his lips and cheek. "Please, I can be good." 

His mouth was sour from sleep, and Dave pulled away, pushing the kid down into the squeaky mattress. "You can be good by letting Tony have his turn."

"No, please. It," Randall breathed noisily, his knees pressing together. "It hurts." 

Dave sat on the edge of the bed, resting a hand on Randall's thigh. He rubbed against the soft skin, soothing as much as he could. "So fucking useless," he cooed. "One cock up your ass, and you're bawling like a baby." He slid his hand back to squeeze a palmful of his skinny butt. "You can always offer him your mouth, if you hurt too bad." He pinched the skin a little, then soothed it away with a warm swath of his hand. "I can't guarantee he'll go for it, but you can always offer."

Dave smiled down at the kid. "Don't worry. If he does fuck you, I'll kiss it better. Trust me." 

******

Tony wasn't interested in his mouth. He pushed Randall down, hiding his face in the pillows as he thrust inside. It hurt more than it had the first time, a stinging, burning terrible pressure pushing deep into places that already felt covered in bruises. In between the grunts and the shudders, Tony would gasp out "Pretty bitch" or "take it whore" until he finally slammed hard into his back. 

Tony left almost immediately, snuffing the lamp before closing the door and leaving Randall in the darkness. His asshole felt raw and wet and open. He tentatively squeezed the muscles, willing it to close up and stop hurting. When he relaxed, it still felt loose and open. He tried again, gritting his teeth against the burn, holding it for as long as he could. His muscles felt slick, and when he relaxed, he could feel something wet slide over the aching sphincter.

If he twisted just a little, he could bring a hand back to check to see what it was. The terrible fear that he was somehow ruined--that it was blood or shit or something worse leaking out of his body and he'd never recover--froze his mind. He flexed his internal muscles a few times, focusing on not feeling the ache, before he gave up. Maybe it was better this way. Being broken open would make the next time easier. And the time after that. Until Dave and Tony got tired of having him around.

Time passed slowly as he stared into the dark, trying to breathe around the deep ache. His throat was sore, and his lips were so dry they hurt. He needed to drink something, even though he didn't want to try to piss again. Even that had hurt, and he burned in humiliation at having to rely on Dave to walk him over and hold him through it. But he was so thirsty. Dave had left the bag near the bed, the heavy bag that he'd pulled sodas from before. If he could just reach it...

Randall straightened his arm, reaching into the darkness beyond the edge of the bed. It was like reaching into an abyss. He wiggled his fingers, trying to find the straps of the bag. He tilted his body towards the side to give himself more reach, but pain flared across his back, sparking behind his balls like someone kicked him from the inside. He curled together, wrapping his hands around his stomach as he shivered and waited for the agony to morph into something he could handle.

He didn't try for the bag again. He just lay there, in the darkness, counting his ragged breaths. He tried to relax, to let his mind wander to that safe place in the cellar, but it wasn't like before. He couldn't go to that far away place. His mind was too awake, his body too aware of everything around him. The fuzziness of his thoughts was replaced by a horrible sharpness, a realization.

Everything was gone. This was his life now. There was no rescue, just people like Tony, or Things like Mom--all of them dark creatures looking to rip him apart. He had no way to defend himself. He couldn't even piss on his own. 

There was Dave. He wasn't so bad, if he was kept happy. If Randall kept himself useful, just maybe he'd take him with. Keep him safe. 

He didn't want the tears to come. They burned, and tasted like salt as he licked them from his fingers. 

So useless, he couldn't even feed and water himself. So fucking useless. 

******

The deadheads started showing up sometime between sunup and full noon. The shadows were still at enough of an angle that Dave thought it might have been the wind moving the leaves when he first saw movement outside. He'd been startled plenty by a lot less. Then a nightmare fell out into the sun, flayed and ragged like an infected boil. 

He kept still, leaning back into the dark lookout spot. It appeared to be alone, wandering aimlessly in the general direction of the house. He could barely breathe as it came closer to the wide glass window, its misshapen face piecing together through the ancient, warped glass. The fucker had no eyes, just a relentlessly gnawing mouth. It slid over the siding, its skinless flesh squeaking and thumping against the vinyl. 

Dave hoped to whatever demon blessed this place that Randall didn't do anything stupid, like move or squeak or scream. Tony, Dave knew from experience, could be counted on to wake with the noise and keep his mouth shut. Randall...he wasn't so sure about.

He could track the deadhead's movement by the noise of its scrabbling hands as it just kept moving, ever forward, step by step, until it passed the corner of the house and stumbled on into the fields. He counted to one hundred before he dared move.

Dave carefully, quickly, mounted the stairs, making as little noise as he could. He slid into the master bedroom, throwing hand signals at Tony to keep him from getting up. He twitched the corner of the blanket carefully aside to peer out the window. 

The corn in the field was high enough to hide the shambling corpse from his direct sight, but the thing thrashed and moved wildly enough the little golden-tasseled heads twitched and danced, showing its progression. It kept moving further and further away, until it eventually escaped the other side of the field, continuing in its pursuit of whatever had called it.

"Just one," Dave said when he felt it was safe, "but that means shit."

Tony carefully rolled out of the bed, the old springs making a soft sigh of a protest against his shifting weight. He checked over his primary weapon quickly, counting his loose bullets with one hand. "What the fuck was it chasing?"

Dave shrugged, looking annoyed. "How the fuck should I know? Do I suddenly got psychic-dead powers?"

"Shhh," Tony mimed, his finger to his lips. There was a bumping noise downstairs, dull thumps that dopplered around the side of the house. Carefully, the two of them peered over the edge of the window, lifting the blanket enough to let them see.

First one, then a half dozen, then even more--a whole herd of dead dragging their feet and shuffling around the house like water flowing around a rock. They were following the rough trajectory of the first lamebrain, slipping into the heavy stalks in the field. There were so many of them, traveling so close together, they started bending and knocking down the cornstalks, cutting a wide path of destruction through the neat lines and trampling the leaves into the muck at their feet. 

By the time the herd thinned into just a few stragglers taking up the rear, Dave's feet were completely asleep from sitting in the same position for too long. The wobbling figures continued through the muddy wasteland, unaware of the humans in the house they left behind.

"Fucking hell," Tony whispered. 

"Thank fuck we weren't in the car, huh?" Dave answered back with a smirk.

Tony wiped a hand over his sweaty brow, his eyes rolling around. "Oh, Christ, don't even say it." 

"That one herd on the way to DC--"

"I said, don't fucking say it. It still skeeves me out." 

Dave spread his hands in the air, giving up the teasing. Frankly, he didn't want to think about DC either, but giving the idea over to Tony might prevent it from cramming into his brain. 

"So what the fuck caught their attention?"

Instead of being instantly sarcastic, Dave thought on it. The area had been completely abandoned, without the telltale marks of a herd this big being near. "Maybe..." He wanted to say that maybe they had followed the car, but he couldn't think that way. The Prius was silent most of the time, and a group that big out here would have to have either built up over time, or broken off from a much larger herd. The fact that they had showed up just days after Tony and Dave had stopped made it clear that if they had followed them, they must have been right behind them, so very close, for a long time. 

"Maybe," Dave picked his thought back up, "they were after a dog or something." He shrugged, letting go of the more disturbing thoughts. "Or a cow. Whatever they have around here."

Tony snorted. "Cow. Sure."

They both went silent as something hit the house, like a wet snowball. Then another. Carefully, they both edged back up to the window, peering over the sill.

Apparently the herd wasn't totally gone just yet.

******

"Hey, you awake? Yeah, open those big eyes." 

Randall squinted against the light, shrinking away a little from the hand pressing against his shoulder. A thumb pressed into a bruise, hard enough to force Randall to open his eyes. Dave sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over Randall as he spoke in a whisper.

"You missed all the excitement." When Randall didn't say anything in response, Dave rolled his eyes and continued talking. "A whole herd of 'em passed by. Like a fucking swarm of ants. Haven't seen one that big since," he paused, shuddering, "DC, man." He leaned back, spreading his arms out like he was presenting a grand vista. "Must've been, like, two or three hundred of them."

"Three hundred?" Randall's mind spun. He tried to imagine that many people--that many THINGS--in a single place, and just couldn't get the picture right in his mind. It kept breaking apart into a single twisted face that looked a lot like Mom. 

"Yeah. They took out a few bushes, and that field is just mud now. Pity. Coulda gone for some fresh corn on the cob."

"Popcorn," Randall mumbled.

"What?"

"It was popcorn."

"No shit? You grow stuff like that?"

Randall frowned. "I don't--I'm not a farmer. It's just... someone's field." 

Dave huffed a laugh. "Yeah, whatever. Anyway, it must've taken hours for 'em all to move on. Probably chasing a rabbit or something." Dave slid his hand down Randall's chest, rubbing at his stomach. "Don't worry, we checked around, took out the couple left behind. They didn't even know we were here." 

The smile fell away from Dave's face, his gaze going completely serious. "You did good, staying quiet."

Randall didn't know what to say. He whispered a half-hearted, "Thanks?"

"You need to remember that--stay quiet. No matter what. We don't know when more will come by. We're kinda in the boonies out here, but you know," he trailed off, scratching his cheek. "You hungry?"

Randall shook his head. He was hungry, and his throat was rough, but the thought of those Things swarming over the house, clawing at the doors, pushing their way inside--it turned his stomach. He wasn't sure he'd be able to do whatever Dave would require in order for him to earn any nourishment.

Dave smiled. "You gotta be thirsty. I brought up some frou-frou water Tone found." The wrapper crinkled as Dave produced it from the floor. The bottle was oddly shaped and filled with some sort of watercolor-pink liquid that didn't look natural. "'Awake'. Didn't know that was a flavor." 

He shook the bottle before twisting off the top. The lid looked a little fuzzy, but the liquid inside seemed fine. Dave took a swig, making his 'ew' face. "'Awake' tastes terrible, but hey, can't be too picky. You want?"

Randall warily slipped his elbow under is body, leveraging himself up a few inches. He gasped as his body shifted, striking that painful place inside. Dave watched him with a curious look as he struggled to sit up a bit more. Finally, he reached up with his free hand, pulling weakly at Dave's neck as he licked his dry lips, his tongue like sandpaper on the split skin. "I want."

Dave folded into his space, tilting his head to capture Randall's lips. His tongue tasted like watered-down bubblegum as it flicked inside. Then Dave pulled back, sliding Randall's hand off his neck and wrapping his fingers around the oddly shaped bottle. "It's all yours."

Randall tried to make it last, but as soon as the liquid touched his lips his throat opened up hungrily. He swallowed again and again, unable to stop his gulping until the last drops struck his tongue. The warm pleasure once again spread out from his stomach, smoother this time, without the burn of carbonation filling his belly. 

He must have made his own face, because Dave huffed a quiet laugh. "That aftertaste, huh?" 

Randall wrinkled his nose, passing the bottle back over to Dave. He set it on the floor by the bed. "You need anything else? It's still my watch."

Randall's forehead hurt, throbbing suddenly in time to the lurching jump in his pulse. "Tony gonna come up?" 

"Probably." Dave's voice was flat, giving away nothing. "You gonna be good?"

His heart skipped, then sped up once again. He nodded, quickly.

"Good. I'll be up in a few hours--"

"Wait!" he said, a little too loud.

"Shh!" Dave admonished, his gaze going distant as cocked his head to the side. After a moment, he locked eyes with Randall again. "What?"

"Could you..." Shit, he didn't know how to say it, how to ask. He didn't really want to know, but if Tony was going to come up again, he needed Dave to see. To know. To keep him safe.

"Could I...?" Dave prompted. 

Randall dropped his gaze, unable to look him in the eye. He felt useless, embarrassed, having to say anything at all. He should be able to deal with this. It shouldn't be so hard. But he had to ask.

******

"Could you... could you... check me?"

"Check you?" Dave asked, wrinkling his brow. "Check your what?"

Randall's dark eyes dipped, his head turning to the side. "It... it hurts."

Dave managed to keep his face straight once he figured out what the kid was talking about. Here they were, end of the world with deadheads swarming outside, and the kid's a little upset about his ass being sore. It was sort of cute--innocent and naive--if also a bit annoying. Kid never would have made it on his own. Dave smoothed out his expression, fluttering his hand in the air. "Okay, yeah. Just, uh," he managed to show an edge of exasperation rather than the amusement he actually felt, "roll over." 

It took a bit of work, and Dave had to help him untangle his limbs a bit, but that little bony ass was soon up in the air. Dave took his time, admiring the view once again as the kid slowly opened his knees under his urging. He was a bit more swollen than the night before, but nothing too bad. No blood, no mess. Tony's condoms were good for some things. He ran a finger over the puckered flesh, pulling it open a little to see the redness inside. Randall started shuddering, making those delicious little noises that he loved to hear. 

When he started getting a little too loud, Dave smoothed his hand over the curve of his hip. "Baby, you need to stay quiet. There may be more around here."

"But..." his voice was real soft now, cracking a little. "But it hurts."

"I said you should offer him your mouth. You've got a great mouth."

"He didn't want it."

Dave squeezed his side, comfortingly. "Well, his loss." He rubbed at Randall's lower back, until his breathing evened back out and his muscles unclenched just a bit.

"Hey, you know, Tony's a bit rough, but he's not gonna kill ya, kid." Dave dipped his head, pressing a quick kiss to the sweet little dip above his crack. "He just don't know how to take care of his things."

"It hurts," Randall repeated, almost pouty. 

"Well, maybe I can help with that." He pulled the tube from his back pocket. It was used, but you couldn't be too picky about your lube options in the apocalypse. The moment he saw it laying abandoned in the bathroom, he knew Tony didn't know nothing about anal, otherwise it would have been added to the loot. Kid's lucky Tone's dick wasn't bigger. 

He tapped the plastic cap against the skin he kissed, smiling as Randall jerked and shuddered. "What's that?" he asked, those dark eyes peeking over his bruised shoulder.

"Just a little something to ease the way," he teased, tracing lines over the pale cheeks. "If you want it."

Randall squirmed under Dave's hand, his puffy pink hole dancing around as he clenched and unclenched. Then he settled, his face disappearing in the pillow.

"You want it?"

Randall made a noise deep in his throat, a little like a moan and a little like a growl. 'Like a puppy,' Dave thought with a grin. 

"That a yes?"

Randall nodded, his dark shaggy head shaking on the lighter pillow fabric. 

Dave shifted, easing the pressure on his crotch as he settled better on the bed. He leaned in close, swiping his tongue just at the edge of the burning hot skin. Randall jerked, his fists digging into the pillow, but Dave held him still, breathing softly over the wet skin. "Just relax, puppy. I told you I'd kiss it better." 

*******

It was wet, and warm, and uncomfortable, but the burn wasn't there as Dave touched and licked and sucked and made all sorts of noises against his skin. When he pressed against him, the burn returned, and Randall gnawed at his lip to keep quiet. The pressure left, returning to the warm shifting not-quite-pain of before. Then the slight burn of pressure, then wetness. Over and over.

Dave finally sat back with a satisfied sigh, his hands rubbing against the pain points in Randall's lower back. He focused on his breathing, on not making too much noise. Too much noise brought those Things, and those Things were outside, Dave said, right outside. Have to stay quiet. 

Dave spread a cool gel over his skin. It felt a little like aloe, only it wasn't quite making the pain go away. It just made it a little more... squishy. He rubbed until it was warm, then stilled his fingers. 

"This'll hurt at first, but it'll make things better. I promise." 

It stung and burned and pulled at things too intimate to mention, then a slightly-cooler-than-skin feeling pressed into his aching hole, spreading the squishiness around. It hurt intensely for a moment, then fleetingly good, until finally everything just went numb as he was stuck shock-still by the overload of his senses. He didn't know what was happening. It wasn't like before, not like Tony tearing him apart. Distantly, he felt something move around, an itching-like sensation he couldn't place. 

"Fuck, you're tight. Tony broke you in good, though." The sensation disappeared with a wet noise, and Dave shifted on the bed. "Think you can take more." The cool touch returned, slipping inside to spread the gel around with a twist. 

Randall focused on his breathing, the air filling his lungs and passed over his nostrils as the stinging points of pain came to life in random places along his skin. He just focused on his breathing, and Dave's voice. 

"Such a good boy."

"Open. Relax."

"Just one more. Gotta get you slicked up, puppy."

"You're so wet. You love this."

"Look at you take it."

"Good. So good, baby."

********

Dave wiped the lube off his fingers and onto the sheet, not taking his eyes off the sweet ass in front of him. Randall's hole was loser now, red and open and shining with slick. He'd worked it until three of his fingers could slip in and out without a problem, making sure the kid was ready. He couldn't help the soreness and bruising that was already there, but the stretching and lube would make the next time easier on him. 

It was tempting, to dip his dick in right then and there. He was open, ready. But Dave wanted to take his time, make the kid truly appreciate the difference between him and Tony. A quickie right now might feel great, but it wouldn't compare to being able to fall asleep in that tight heat. He could wait.

He pressed another kiss to the little dip above Randall's ass, tucking the tube into his pocket. "I gotta go, but Tony'll be up soon." He stood, stretching a bit and eying the ass-up position he was in. "Don't bother moving; he'll just take you like you are."

He tucked his gun back into the back of his jeans, and left the lamp on.

********

Dave's last words stuck with Randall. It was one thing for Dave to /know/, but to even know how the other man took him? How could he? Unless... Tony must have bragged. He burned with shame at the thought of Dave knowing everything, every detail, down to the type of condoms Tony used. Had Tony described the sounds he made? Did they laugh at him while he was alone up here in the darkness? 

He listened to the movement of the house, the floorboards, hoping that Tony would stop at Mom's room and just go back to sleep. 

"Well, looks like someone left me a present."

Randall buried his face at the familiar voice.

"Might as well've wrapped a bow around you."

The bed squeaked in protest at the extra weight behind him.

"What a good little bitch. Fuck, so wet and tight."

It didn't hurt as bad this time, no tearing-burning pressure, just this slick feeling like a water balloon hitting a bruise, over and over. Randall held his cries, closing his mouth over the pillow to keep any that escaped from leaking into the room. He had to be good.

Randall wanted to go back to the basement, back to that numbness where everything was familiar and unfocused, where he could hear the scratching and it was good, it was comfort. But he didn't want to go back to the basement, back to that emptiness where everything hurt, where dirt and thirst and hunger and fear clawed at his eyes and tore at his limbs, where he was alone, so alone. 

Tony doused the lamp when he left, closing the door with a soft latch of the knob. 

All alone. 

Randall collapsed onto his side, facing the wall, breathing heavily. He ached, but it was no worse than it had been. He felt even more open, like a fresh wound that dripped and bled and wouldn't close. 

Slowly, he twisted his back just a little, fighting against the painful twinges and overstretched muscles. He reached behind himself, feeling his asshole. It didn't feel gaping and huge to his fingers, just wet and too warm to the touch. When he drew his fingers back, he tried to peer at them in the total darkness, but he couldn't see anything. His fingers slid over each other in the wetness. It was thin and oily like blood, but Dave had said he was fine, that he'd take care of him. 

Giving up, Randall wiped his fingers in the wall in front of him. He dug his nails into the wood paneling, scratching at the texture, but the sound brought him no comfort. He closed his eyes, but couldn't sleep.

*******

Dave didn't bother to turn on the light. After the action of the day, he didn't want to waste the oil. He just wanted to spend some time with his puppy. Dave smiled at the thought, liking the nickname. 

He'd taken a side trip before coming in, using a wet rag to wash off the dead-bits that had landed on his skin while they had finished off the lurking monsters. The herd seemed to have moved on, though one or two deadheads had showed up sporadically. Those that didn't move on were quickly dispatched. He'd earned his little bit of down time, and he was going to make the most of it. 

He stripped down and slid into the bed, spooning the warm body that was already there. He could feel the shakes starting up everywhere they touched. "Relax, puppy." He kissed Randall's shoulder. "It's just me."

Dave ran his hands over Randall's skin, his lips tracing invisible lines over the long curve of his neck. "How you doing?"

Randall moaned lightly, squirming a bit in Dave's arms. "You gotta pee?" he guessed, but the kid just shook his head. "Hungry?" There was a pause, then he nodded. Dave settled in tighter to his back, pressing his erection into the soft skin of his ass. "What are you hungry for?"

Randall cleared his throat, and his voice was a rough whisper. "Food."

Dave laughed, his teeth grazing the sweet skin of Randall's neck. "Well, okay, if you insist." He pulled away enough to rummage behind him, finding the edge of the bag with the tips of his fingers. He jerked it closer, pulling out a long, slim beef stick he'd buried towards the bottom. The plastic was thick and cool against his fingers as he found the lip and ripped the package open.

Spicy, greasy meat-smell rose up in the dark space between them. Randall groaned deep in his throat, his back twisting a bit as he sniffed the air. "Some good old American protein, to keep your strength up." He bit off a small chunk, savoring the flavor. They were his favorites, but he was feeling like spoiling his puppy tonight. 

He tucked in tight against Randall's back, holding the meat in front of the kid's face. "Go on." Warm fingers wrapped around his hand, directing him as Randall started nibbling at the stick. He smacked his lips as he worked his way down, until his tongue started licking at Dave's fingers. Dave smiled into Randall's shoulder, letting the kid work over his fingers like he'd worked his dick just hours ago.

"C'mere," he finally commanded, turning Randall onto his back so he could settle down on top of his lighter body. He was so slim and bony, all these little sharp points that dug into Dave's skin. His mouth tasted spicy and rich, slick like he wanted it to be. He was getting better at the kissing, no longer a limp fish or a too-eager octopus. Dave took his time, enjoying the simple pleasure of making out with a living, breathing, human being. For a long time there, he didn't think he'd ever get to feel this again. 

He ran his fingers over the bumps of ribs, feeling the way the kid's heart danced under the delicate wings. It would be so easy to hurt him, kill him. Just a push, or a bullet. But no, this kid was a treasure, worth the hassle of an extra body just so he could touch him like this. His hand fit around the limp flesh of his cock, squeezing and massaging until the kid was just as hard as he was. 

"You feel so good. You like it when I touch you?"

Randall nodded against Dave's face, his lips catching in a quick nip. "Touch me." 

"It's so fucking hard to just leave you up here. I want to be inside you so bad. My fingers still smell like you." He slipped his hand off the kid's dick to slide down towards his ass. "You still wet for me back there?" He dipped his fingers inside, feeling the slickness of the sore muscles clenching around his flesh. 

Randall moaned again, squirming away from the touch so he was grinding against Dave's stomach. "Don't." 

"What did you say?"

Randall's body went still at Dave's sharp tone. He swallowed, panting against Dave's lips. "I like it," Randall finally whispered, his hips relaxing back against Dave's hand. "Touch me."

Dave smiled into the darkness, and kissed Randall tenderly on the mouth to show his approval. "I got more of the slick, baby, if you want some." 

"Please." 

"Can't get enough of me, huh?"

"I can't get enough of you. Please, more."

Dave uncapped the tube one-handed in the dark. The artfulness of the move was completely lost of his partner, but that was okay. He was going to make him feel amazing in just a second. The gel was still warm from sitting in his pocket all afternoon, so he didn't bother taking any time before he slipped two slick fingers inside the swollen, tight hole. 

Randall mewled, his body stretching out like a cat, rubbing against Dave everywhere he could reach. He pulled at the soft walls, rubbing and coaxing the bruised muscles to relax and let him in. "Just let me, baby. C'mon, puppy, let me in."

********

It felt different, smothered by Dave's weight, his hands touching him everywhere. There was pleasure to be found in certain spots, ways he could move to make a soft burst of something good spark up from his skin where only pain had been before. He reached out, running his hands over Dave's shoulders and back, feeling the solidness of him holding him down. 

If he was good, if he did what Dave wanted, it didn't have to be so bad. He could feel good, like his hand had felt good, warm and comforting squeezing his prick. Teeth grazed his skin, but they didn't bite or tear. Lips sucked, arms held him close, but he didn't have to be afraid. He could survive this. He'd already survived this. 

He opened his legs, letting Dave settle heavily on the inside of his thighs. His ass just felt numb from the constant stimulation. 

"Such a good puppy. My puppy." 

His spine came to life with a sharp thrust, lightning strikes frizzing through his muscles. He groaned into Dave's shoulder, burying the noise into his sweaty skin as a slick hand wrapped around his dick. 

The bed squeaked and rocked, and boiling pleasure bubbled up through his veins as the lightning in his spine abated. There was pressure, and heat, and soft lips and sharp hips and all sorts of nasty wet sounds in the darkness as his breathing hitched and gasped. 

"C'mon puppy. That's it." Dave rolled against him, pressing down and pumping hard, his fingers twisting and squeezing and pressing just right THERE so fucking good--

"Gah--please!" Randall gasped, thrusting up into the tight grip. His hands pulled until he felt the soft tickle of Dave's hair against his lips, found the bumpy folds of his ear. "Please please please please..." 

There were more words there, words that died before they left his throat, things he wanted to scream. But he had to be quiet, be quiet, be so good. 

Dave shuddered as Randall continued whispering in his ear, his hand leaving Randall's cock to dig into his hips, pull him tight against him as he spasmed and jerked. 

He was open, and wet, but the pain wasn't so bad. Dave thrust a couple more times into him before slumping heavily on Randall's shoulder. He gasped, breathless, pleasure humming on his tongue as he licked a stripe up his throat. 

"So good, puppy. Now, come for me. Be a good boy."

Fingers firm and slick and knowing grasped him, twisted and pumped and dug into the secret spaces until Randall was right there, right at the edge again. 

"Please," he begged, his head shaking from side to side, his hair knotting up from the friction. "No, no, no, please."

A digit, thick and rough, pressed into his piss slit, nail scraping against the tender, untouched skin inside. "Do it, come all over me."

For a brief moment, Randall's head was completely clear. He could see in the darkness, see the glinting of those eyes above him, that face. He knew, without a doubt, that he was as good as dead already. That this person, braced on top of and inside him, was the only thing keeping him alive.

He was still alive. They were all going to die, no fucking doubt about that, but for right now, he was alive. 

So he might as well enjoy himself.

Randall thrust his hips forward, clenching down on the softening weight inside before it could slip out. His vision whited out, the whole world exploding in a nuclear flash of pleasure and pain and misery and an immense joy, like he'd never felt before. 

He was alive, goddamnit, and he'd do anything to stay this way. 

*******

The kid shuddered in his arms, still working through the aftershocks of what must have been an intense orgasm. Dave was a mess; he could feel the thick come cool in splatters up to his neck, his fingers dripping with slick and spend. That tight little hole clenched and pulsed on his softening cock, drawing little shocks of pleasure out of him as he rode the shuddering boy. 

"Good boy," Dave cooed, nuzzling against his neck, sucking another big bruise on his rapid pulse. Breath-dried lips brushed against his as he sought out Randall's face, kissing him as they both worked their way down. Their breathing slowed, and the sweat cooled, until they were both asleep.

********

Randall felt wet and itchy as he woke. At some point, both Dave's cock and a lot of come had slipped out of his ass, becoming sticky and unpleasant as he shifted his hips. With a grumble, Dave stilled Randall's restless movements, rolling his weight back on top of him. 

It was... soothing, in a way, that heavy human weight holding him down. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel Dave's breath, and knew that they were both still there, still alive. 

Randall closed his eyes, and let himself fall back into the darkness.

*********

Days passed in a sort of mild routine. A few deadheads would stumble by, or wander out of a field. If they stayed too long, Dave or Tony--whoever was on watch--would take care of them. The car was restocked and go-bags ready to go. Down time was spent sleeping or fucking the sweet young thing that was getting to be more responsive as his skin filled out, his eyes looking less hollow as he was regularly fed and watered. 

It seemed like it would last forever. But like all quiet times, sooner or later, the noise came back.

The fuckers always found them.

Randall had been moved to the master bedroom at one point, due to the bed being quieter than that squeaky old thing. It meant that Dave could stretch out as much as he wanted, but it also meant a more open door policy with Tony. Watches overlapped, and sometimes it was just too damn easy to get sloppy, standing by to witness another man drilling deep into that sweet, moaning, pretty little thing.

It took Dave a few moments to realize the moaning was coming from outside the house, and not from the bedroom. He half-tripped down the stairs, leaning down to see what was going on. A red face, blood-splattered and ruined, moved against the warped glass of the large window. This one had eyes, though, filmy and gray, as well as a few dozen buddies pressing up behind it.

"Oh, fuck, Tony!"

Dave was shoving the extra rounds in his pockets, grabbing a rifle of his own by the time Tony made it downstairs with his weapon ready to fire. "What the hell were you doing? You should have warned me earlier." 

"They came out of fucking nowhere," Dave said, a half-truth. Where the fuck were they all coming from? More faces, ruined and wet, pressed into the glass, scratching at it. 

"Round back," Dave gestured, and Tony instantly nodded. They fell easily into the comfortable aggression that had helped them make it this far. They didn't need too many words or gestures to know what to do. A mob this big, they'd have to use guns, and guns meant noise, and noise meant more of them. 

Looks like they just lost paradise. 

Dave pushed open the back door, scanning the ground and nearby mudfield quickly for any stragglers. The bulk of them seemed to be at the front of the house still, attracted to the noise and movement they'd sensed. Dave checked that his pistol was ready to fire before he waved Tony out. Quiet as possible, they moved to the side of the house to get a better view of the herd.

It wasn't as big as they feared. No more deadheads were wobbling out of the bushes, just the dozen or so clawing at the window. The glass was creaking as the monsters all pushed their weight on it, focused on getting inside. 

With a slight swagger, Tony took off his hat and stuffed it in his back pocket. Using the side of the house as a guide, he aimed his weapon around the corner, and fired.

Three quick shots, and then Dave leaned out, taking aim with his own weapon, focused on making them all count.

Bodies fell, and the small herd was distracted, torn between two targets. More shots were fired past his ear, and the window gave away with a bright twinkling noise, a few of the lamebrains falling over the wicked edge.

Dave continued firing, edging away from the house to draw off the geeks as Tony reloaded. They had a rhythm, a style, and it was all he could focus on. 

Kill 'em all, and then deal with the ones who got inside.

********

Randall had heard Dave's shout, whining as Tony pulled out of him too quickly. He curled on his side, listening as the men exchanged words before moving through the house. It was silent for a while, with only the bumping-groaning-moaning hoard of dead to fill the air, and then there were gunshots, glass breaking, and a loud dead-dry hissing. 

Randall's heart skipped, and then adrenaline flooded his system. It'd been a long time since he'd heard guns. This far from town, you could always hear gunfire from somewhere, either people hunting or simply trying to scare off animals from their land. It was a noise he knew. The pops came off regular but overlapped, like at a firing range. He closed his eyes, listening to the music, pretending he could smell the gunpowder. In his mind, he was holding a gun, and the fucking deadheads were falling like dominos. He lost himself in the fantasy, mowing down row after row of the hundred dead Things that surrounded him.

Then there was a noise, almost a scraping-scuffle, like something big pulling itself across the floor. It got louder as the gunshots faded into the distance, until there was nothing but scraping... /Scratching!/

The moan was dry and weak, floating up the stairway. 

Randall pushed himself up, twisting to look over the edge of the bed. He could see a bit of a shadow in the soft light that was reflected up from the living room. It moved stiffly, clumsily like a drunk. Something scraped, and a smell, like hadn't noticed in a very long time, pricked his nose. 

Randall looked around the room for a weapon. Tony's rifle had left with its owner, and the big gun never left Dave's side. There were no knives or even a baseball bat on this floor. Randall slipped an oversized pair of pants over his bare feet and cinched it tight around his hips. Dave had insisted he wear clothes some of the time now, because he loved taking them off him. They'd nearly worked their way through the whole basketful of neatly folded clothes his mom had left for him, a long time ago. 

The smell was getting worse, the scratching so loud. 

A thick-bottomed lamp sat dusty and useless on the bedside table, still plugged into the dead socket. A pair of dirty reading glasses were folded up against the base, waiting for the lady of the house to return. With a strength he hadn't felt in a long time, Randall jerked the lamp off the table, pulling the cord out of the wall. The loose wire dragged on the carpet until he gathered it up, wrapping it around his wrist and hand as he flipped the thing upside-down. The heavy base pulled against his grasp, the thin body twisting under his fingers. He watched the door, and waited.

********

Dave was running low on rifle ammo, but he still had his pistol and a lot of rounds left if it came to it. The herd was decimated, down to just a few wriggling limbs in a sea of decomposed flesh. It was hard to fire down into the pile and get a clean shot, but Tony was walking back from around the house with a fucking rake of all the goddamn things... 

Movement in the house drew Dave's attention, and almost too late he remembered the few bodies that had fallen inward with the breaking glass. One was still speared on the jagged edge, but he could see a trail of blood leading beyond the square of sunlight that flooded through the broken glass. 

There was a shout, high-pitched and angry. 

Fuck, the kid!

Dave left the remains of the herd to Tony's gentle touch, vaulting around the side of the house and heading to the door. There was no sign of the dead in the hallway, but once in the living room he could see one was clawing at the bottom stair. It was trying to pull itself up even though its entrails had twisted and caught between the couch and a table. Eventually, it would have worked its way free. He squeezed off a shot straight into its greasy head, but left the other deadhead wriggling and growling from its window-pike. There was blood on the stairs, leading up all the way to the master bedroom. Dave ran up, clear two steps at a time with his loping gait.

Dave took the last few steps cautiously, ready to face one--or more--deadheads around every corner. The door to the smaller room was still closed. He spared a glance into the bathroom--empty--and spun into the master bedroom with his gun ready.

There was a giant red splotch in the middle of the floor. Bits of tissue and bone stuck out at odd angles, broken and smashed into the thick carpet. The body was difficult to identify, with the legs missing completely. For a moment, Dave just froze, his mind trying to figure out what exactly he was seeing. Then there was a noise behind him, in the hallway.

He peered around the side, checking quickly for any clues. There was red on the floor, dark and stinking, in a clear pattern like footprints. Dave slowly walked to the small bedroom, turned the knob, and pushed the door open.

Randall stood there, barechested and coated with geek-slime. He had an old shirt in his hands, and looked like he had been scrubbing at the gunk on his arms with it. 

"You okay?"

Randall shrugged, one white shoulder in the middle of all that gore. "Took that bitch down." 

"You. Okay?"

Randall held out his arms, showing them off. "It didn't have a chance." He waved a red-brown hand to the bent and broken side-lamp that lay in its own puddle of mess. He gave a broken little laugh, his voice filled with poison. "Bashed its fucking head in before it could even open its dirty mouth." 

Dave gave a short bark of a laugh, rubbing his face as he watched the kid go back to knocking bits of rotted flesh and gore off his skin. "Yeah, you did, puppy." He took the ruined shirt from Randall's grasp, dropping it to the floor as he caught him up in a quick open-mouth kiss. 

"Maybe you're not so worthless after all."

********

It was just easier to break the oil lamps and splash the last of the kerosene around the place than to try to clean up and return to the old routine. The house wasn't a fortress, and they'd had a good run in the place. Already, a few of the dead in the nearest houses were finding ways to fall out of their nests, taking a big interest in the noise and bustle. Go-bags were grabbed and even though the car was a bit tighter with three, Dave didn't mind having the kid ride on his lap. 

The house was smoking before they even got the car started, a few yellow flames flickering around the windows. Randall twisted in Dave's lap to look behind him as they pulled down the drive onto the road, but he settled down pretty quick. Before too long, they were back to streets. 

"The light and noise of the fire will attract the lamebrains, keep 'em off our trail a bit," Dave said, as Randall settled back down. He was wearing an old black polo shirt, looking like a raggedy freshman. 

"Where are we going?" Randall asked.

"What do you think, Dave? Atlanta?"

Dave sighed a breath through his teeth. "You really think the CDC is still running, Tone? With all them things around there?" Dave rolled his eyes. "It was probably the first place to go down." He looked out the window, watching the houses and the bodies get thinner as they moved further away. 

"There's a campground, not too far from here."

Dave jiggled Randall on his lap. "A campground, huh?"

He nodded. "With water pumps and hookups." He pointed ahead of them. "About 15 miles or so up the road. Surrounds the lake."

Dave smiled. "Ah, kid, you forget what I told you about bodies of water, huh? Dumbass." He looked around, squinting at the fading sunlight. "How about you take the next right, Tone, and we see what we can find?"

Tony mocked a salute, slowing down. At the next crossroads, he took a right and kept on driving.


End file.
